


bring madness with the bliss

by anonymousdaredevils



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Consensual Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Blood, Oral Sex, Sadism, Scratching, Spanking, arguably not all that dark considering all the tags prior to this, basically: violent sex and cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:18:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousdaredevils/pseuds/anonymousdaredevils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m taking my clothes off,” Foggy says, and Matt inclines his head like he’s listening to the soft sound of fabric sliding against skin. Foggy leaves his clothes on the floor, moving to kneel in front of Matt, putting hands on his knees. “What do you want?”</p><p>“What can I have?” Matt asks, quietly.</p><p>“Whatever you want,” Foggy replies.</p><p>“Don’t say that, you always says that,” Matt says. “Please, just—tell me what I can’t do.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	bring madness with the bliss

**Author's Note:**

> hahahahaha this is filth
> 
> Matt's a submissive sadist, Foggy's acting as his dom but doesn't actually get off on pain, and there's some blood involved. Written for [this fabulous prompt. ](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/6237.html?thread=11819869#cmt11819869)

One more punch and Matt would have killed him. He doesn’t even need to tell Foggy the first bit—it still kind of fucks him up to know that Matt could hear someone dying just from the shallow sound of their lungs. He could have just said, “I would have killed him,” because Foggy’s pretty sure it’s true, if it hadn’t been for a well-timed police car.

The guy got Matt good, too. Probably not as good as Matt got him, but that’s saying something. Matt might have just tried to stumble home and pass out in his own bed if he didn’t look like he was about to split apart at the seams and Foggy’s apartment’s closer, probably more appealing since they finally got their shit together and Foggy implemented an open window policy—“Mi casa es su terrible excuse for a trauma ward,” he’d said, the first time Matt had crawled in and bled in his kitchen and kissed him with a bruised mouth.

“Let me guess,” Foggy says, carefully disinfecting a deep cut on Matt’s shoulder, holding Matt’s hand. “I should see the other guy.”

“You really shouldn’t,” Matt says.

“That bad?” Foggy asks, after a beat. “What’d he do to get the full Murdock?”

“He had information on that missing college student,” Matt says, “that he didn’t want to share with the class.”

“Trafficking, you think?”

“I _know_ ,” Matt says, tightening his grip on Foggy’s hand so Foggy can feel him shaking. “ _Foggy_. I need—”

“I’ve got you,” Foggy says, leaning in to kiss Matt’s temple. “Be patient for me, buddy. I’m not letting you near me while you’ve still got some criminal’s blood on your hands.”

Matt nods, clenching his free hand as Foggy finishes bandaging him up and then leads him over to the kitchen sink. He drapes himself over Matt’s back, washing his hands for him gently under hot water. When he’s satisfied, Matt’s hands dried with a soft kitchen towel, Foggy says, “Go sit on the bed. I’ll be there in a second.”

Matt does so, without hesitating, which makes Foggy feel warm and flushed all over. He makes Matt wait for a while because he knows it’ll get him keyed up, listening to Foggy hum quietly while he finishes the dishes.

Matt’s breathing in short, harsh breaths when Foggy walks into the bedroom, twisting his hands in his lap. His glasses are sitting on the bedside table and he looks up in Foggy’s direction with big, dark eyes.

“I’m taking my clothes off,” Foggy says, and Matt inclines his head like he’s listening to the soft sound of fabric sliding against skin. Foggy leaves his clothes on the floor, moving to kneel in front of Matt, putting hands on his knees. “What do you want?”

“What can I have?” Matt asks, quietly.

“Whatever you want,” Foggy replies.

“Don’t say that, you always says that,” Matt says. “Please, just—tell me what I can’t do.”

“Nothing Karen can see in the office on Monday,” Foggy says. “Nothing that will make me pass out. What’s my safe word?”

“Avocado,” Matt says, mouth curling up in a half-smile.

“Stop if I use it, not if I don’t,” Foggy continues. “Do you want to use any toys?”

“Just my hands,” Matt says, and— _fuck_ , that’s hot, Matt’s hands fisting in the sheets like they’re eager to get on Foggy’s skin but Matt’s too good to do anything until Foggy tells him to.

“Okay.” Foggy slides his hands up to rest on Matt’s hips, sitting up to kiss him, once, chastely on the mouth. “I trust you.”

Matt knows his go-ahead, grabs a fistful of Foggy’s hair and _pulls_ so Foggy has to scramble up on the bed, falling on his back at Matt’s insistent push. Matt collapses on top of him, straddling his waist and holding him down with hands on both shoulders before he leans in to kiss him hard. He bites at Foggy’s lip then licks the mark, repeats until the skin breaks and Foggy tastes his own blood on Matt’s tongue.

Matt flips him over like it’s nothing, moves him where he wants him, his face pressed into the sheets and his ass up in the air. He runs his fingers up and down the small of Foggy’s back and over his ass before he digs in and _drags_ them, making Foggy squirm and cry out.

It’s not long, a few repetitions of this before the skin is hastily torn at the surface under Matt’s fingernails, just enough that Foggy can feel droplets of blood forming. He doesn’t expect for it to go much further than that—Matt doesn’t even draw blood all that often, restrained enough to know that it’s gonna be hell for Foggy to sit for a few days, at least—but then Matt’s fingers lightly graze the top of Foggy’s ass before he digs them in and down _again_ and Foggy shouts.

“Shit, _shit_ , Matt,” he says, jerking forward, moving away from him involuntarily. Matt covers the scratches with his hands and pushes down so Foggy’s pinned to the bed and feels the blood—not too much, nothing major, but _fuck_ , it _hurts_ —smearing over his skin. He’s not really hard anymore, but the sounds Matt makes when he looks at him keep him turned on just enough to make it okay.

“You feel good,” Matt murmurs, voice deep and growly, before he spanks over the worst of the scratches without any warning. Foggy sobs a little, curling in on himself.

“No, no,” he gasps, digging his face into the mattress, and he thinks he can feel Matt hesitate for a brief moment before he spanks him again, harder, and Foggy shouts, “Fuck, _ow, ow_. _Matt._ ”

The pace he sets is almost gentle, at first, and Foggy doesn’t do more than gasp and whine until Matt starts to really hit him. He’s going to bruise under the cuts; he’s going to have to get a standing desk or something, if this keeps happening. He’s hazily thinking about excuses for not sitting at all this week when Matt hits him so hard that he feels pitched and dizzy.

“ _No_ ,” he groans, more impulse than anything to set the scene, between hits. “Please, _please_ no.”

“What’s your safe word?” Matt asks, dropping himself down so he’s straddling Foggy’s hips, dick hard and pressing up against his ass. Foggy pushes back against it, as much as he can when he’s pinned down, one of Matt’s hands in the middle of his back.

“Avocado,” he says.

“Do you want to use it?” Matt asks, almost slurring—god, Matt’s trying so hard for him, so fucked up on this but still checking in like Foggy tells him to. He’s going to be so sweet to Foggy after this is over, and Foggy can take it. A little pain’s good for him.

“No,” he murmurs. “Do you?”

Matt says, “No,” and bends down to press a kiss then a sharp bite to the back of his neck before sliding off of him again. The next hit is a shock to Foggy’s system, and he’s crying in earnest now, like it’s been ripped out of him.

He sobs around a torn up, “I can’t—Matt, I _can’t_.”

Matt says, voice rising and falling,  “I’m going to fuck you—can I—can I fuck you?” because he always gets weird about the sex part when Foggy’s crying and begging underneath him, which is kind of cute, honestly.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck me,” Foggy says. He tries to raise his hips but it hurts too much to move, so he lets Matt do it, fingers digging into his skin and pulling him up so his ass is higher in the air. He’s sinking two fingers—liberally and messily coated with lube, _thank god_ —into Foggy to start and Foggy moans at the stretch of them. Matt’s rough when he adds two more fingers, all of them up to the last knuckle, and Foggy’s concerned that he’s going to have to safe word before Matt tries to fit his thumb in when Matt pulls out entirely. He slowly, slowly slides in until his hips are pressed up against Foggy’s ass, a low sting until he pulls back and snaps his hips forward.

Foggy cries out the first time, an overwhelming mix of hurt and sudden arousal stirring low inside him. He drops his head and bites down on his arm to keep from really screaming, keening against his skin until Matt’s coming with a gasp inside of him. He collapses on top of Foggy for a long moment, breathing against his neck, before he seems to come to and realizes that the bulk of his weight’s on the scratches he left.

Matt positions himself carefully after he pulls out, straddling Foggy’s legs so he’s not touching any of the scratches and leaning down to press wet kisses to the uninjured middle of his back, smoothing his hands over his shoulders, whispering, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” in a small voice.

“S’cool,” Foggy murmurs, careful not to move anything but his head as he glances back at Matt, who’s looking trembling and small even while he’s hovering over him. Now that they’re not moving, the pain is just a dull throbbing, masked by adrenaline and a steadily reviving erection now that his body’s pressed up against the mattress. Foggy moans softly, waving a hand aimlessly backwards until Matt takes it and laces their fingers together, squeezing.

“You’re still bleeding,” Matt says, faintly, and Foggy can feel the heat of one of his hands hovering over the small of his back where the scratches start.

“A lot?” Foggy asks.

“No, but—” Matt starts, and Foggy can basically hear him frown, shifting a little on top of him.

“Yeah, yeah, relative perceptions of ‘a lot,’” Foggy finishes, lazily. “Go get the first aid kit.”

“Yeah,” Matt murmurs, moving off of Foggy, stopping short when Foggy doesn’t let go of his hand. He makes an inquiring noise, and Foggy leans up enough to pull Matt into a short kiss. Matt melts into it, fingers sliding into Foggy’s hair.

“Feeling better?” Foggy asks, against his mouth.

Matt nods, a bare hint of a smile on his face as he pulls away.

“Good,” Foggy says, dropping his head back down into his arms, letting Matt’s hand slips out of his. Matt leaves and comes back quickly, kneeling on the bed next to Foggy and running a cool damp washcloth over his skin. Foggy can’t swallow back the quiet, hurt noises, but when they reach a peak, Matt moves to so, so carefully turn Foggy’s head and kiss them out of his mouth before going back to taking care of him.

Matt’s breathing has slowed down so Foggy can barely hear it over his own, coming in sharp little bursts while Matt carefully cleans the scratches.

“I don’t know what to bandage so I’m going to bandage everything,” Matt says, and Foggy huffs out a laugh.  

“Do your best,” he says.

When Matt’s finished, he asks, “Do you think you can lay on your back?”

“Why, do you have plans for my front?”

“My mouth does,” Matt says, and Foggy glances back in time to see him blushing, “if you want it.”

“You can go from violent sadist to adorable nerd in like fifteen seconds flat, it’s amazing,” Foggy says, turning carefully. Matt grabs a pillow and helps him put it under his back so it’s not too painful, and then he’s ducking down to nose against Foggy’s half-hard dick, like he’s asking permission.

Foggy reaches down to run his fingers through his hair, smiling at the grateful look that passes over Matt’s face.

“Go ahead,” he says, and Matt moves eagerly to take the head of Foggy’s dick in his mouth and lick around it. Foggy gasps, tightening his hand in Matt’s hair when he murmurs, “Good, Matt, you’re doing so well.”

Matt drops lower at that, taking Foggy until he hits the back of his throat and then pulling back off, again and again. Foggy murmurs soft praises, nonsense words as he gets closer.

“I’m gonna come, sweetheart,” he says, just to hear Matt moan a little around him, swallowing dutifully when Foggy comes in his mouth. He pulls off and crawls to collapse beside Foggy and pull him until Foggy is basically laying on top of him. Matt curls his arms around him and holds him there, stroking fingers over his back.

“Are you okay?” he asks, quietly.

“I’m good. I mean, our shitty office chairs are going to be torture for awhile,” Foggy says. “But you’ll just have to think of some way to make it up to me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Foggy says, leaning down to brush their noses together. “You might wanna start now.”

Matt’s smiling when he pushes up into a kiss, and it’s easy. It works.


End file.
